


HANG YOUR STOCKINGS ABOVE THE FIREPLACE

by AgnesClementine



Series: Coldwave Winter week 2018 [4]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Coldwave Winter Week 2018, Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 11:45:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17099987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgnesClementine/pseuds/AgnesClementine
Summary: In theory, Mick knows that Len looks great in anything. What Lisa puts him into is not an exception either. In reality, when Len steps out of the bathroom, he’s so goddamn gorgeous Mick almost chokes on his own tongue.*********************************Prompt for the 21st December- Fake marriage/pretend relationship + stockings





	HANG YOUR STOCKINGS ABOVE THE FIREPLACE

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing crossdressing, I hope it's okay. Let me know what you think and enjoy! :)

Mick can admit to being the one who tried to get Len to do this for a couple of years now. Not pushing or anything- he’s not the type of an asshole who’d force Len to do anything he doesn’t want to- but more like a suggestion here and there even though Len rolls his eyes and dismisses it with a chuckle each time.

This time, his response is a bit different.

“No way,” he squeaks out, eyes wide and shaking his head while Lisa grins at him, “I’m not doing it.”

“Aw, c’mon, Lenny, it’s gonna be great.” Lisa coos, wrapping her arms around his middle, ignoring his scowl.

Mick doesn’t say anything, but he’s with Lisa on this one, absolutely.

“Lisa,” Len says, only a smidge pleadingly as he realizes that he’s outnumbered. Lisa grins wider.

“Please. I have everything ready and I know exactly what to do.”

This gets Len to arch his eyebrows questioningly.

Lisa shrugs, “What? All sisters do this.”

“Doubt it,” Len responds dryly.

“Lenny,” Lisa tries once more, squeezes his middle gently before breaking the embrace, “do it for the job.”

And those are the golden words that have Len’s resolve cracking. Mick can see the hope withering in his eyes. There’s not much Len wouldn’t do for a job and if dressing up is what it takes to make everything run smoothly, then he’s gonna suck it up.

“If you really hate it so much, you don’t have to do it.” Mick finally says- although it personally hurts him to do so- because making Len uncomfortable is not worth it. Even if he’d really like to see Len in stockings (Len has _amazing_ legs, it’s unbelievable), it wouldn’t be worth it if Len’s miserable the whole time while wearing them.

Len shifts on his feet, sighs heavily and lets his shoulders drop. “Fine,” he says begrudgingly.

Lisa squeals, doing a little shimmy dance before grabbing her brother’s wrist. “You’re not gonna regret this.” She says seriously- and pulls him into the bathroom.

Mick drops down onto the sofa and waits.

  * ●●●●



The job- or this _part of the job_ , at least- is only a look out. A peek into what they’re getting into. Len found some kind of a fancy gala or whatever in some rich slob’s mansion. And it’s a perfect opportunity to scout out the situation. Under the guises, of course.

The catch is in the fact that it’s a cross-dressing party. Or something like that. (Mick is not ignorant- and even if he were, Len would make sure to educate him-, but he’s still getting the hang of all that.)

So they needed at least one of them to put on a dress (literally or figuratively) and it wasn’t going to be Mick. Because first of all: “Mick won’t fit in any of my clothes,” as Lisa put it, and second: Mick knows he wouldn’t be comfortable.

Which makes him sound like a hypocrite, he knows, so if Len’s really not on board with this, they’ll find another way-

The door of the bathroom opens and Lisa breezes out, spring in her step. She’s really hyped for this.

“I need scissors.” She explains.

“Scissors?” Mick asks warily. The hell she needs scissors for? “The hell you doing with him in there?”

Lisa grins at him, “Waxing.” She says.

Mick blinks, wondering how she got Len to agree to that. “Right.”

She skips back into the bathroom and closes the door again.

About twenty minutes later, there’s an only slightly muffled, “Oh, fuck, Lisa! Give me a warning the next time!”

  * ●●●●



Mick is dozing off on the sofa when Lisa pokes her head out and instructs him to put on a suit. He complies, but only because he’s getting bored with all the waiting.

He gets dressed in the living room- he can hear Len and Lisa bickering from there- and gets a bit worried when Len says, “Lisa, enough. Are you trying to poke me in the eye on purpose?”

He’s gonna owe Len so much for this, he can already tell.

  * ●●●●



In theory, Mick knows that Len looks great in anything. What Lisa puts him into is not an exception either. In reality, when Len steps out of the bathroom, he’s so goddamn gorgeous Mick almost chokes on his own tongue.

He’s wearing a tight, beige pullover just a few shades darker than his skin, a black leather skirt that makes him look absolutely _sinful_ and black, semi-transparent stockings with _goddamn suspenders_.

Mick gets a bit lightheaded.

Lisa comes to stand next to him, to survey her work. She hums, satisfied.

Len crosses his arms again and scowls at them as a blush rises to his cheeks. “What?”

Mick shakes his head mutely while Lisa says, “You’re hotter than hell, Lenny.”

Len scowls and blushes harder, crossing his feet at the ankles as well. He’s got flat, ankle high boots on, but Mick already suspected that from the “I’m not wearing heels, Lisa,” that was uttered sometime after the “I’m not wearing a wig, Lisa.”

“Let’s just get on with this,” Len mutters.

“Wait. I need to check your make-up once more.” Lisa informs him. To Mick’s questioning look, she says, “I’m not doing half-assed makeovers.”

She then proceeds to tip Len’s head in various directions, inspecting his face carefully and yeah, Mick can see the thin, black line framing Len’s eyes and some light shading around them. It’s similar to what Lisa wears sometimes.

His cheekbones seem sharper too.

“Don’t frown,” Lisa tells him, patting his cheek, “you look damn fine. Right, Mick?”

Mick swallows and clears his throat, “Yeah.” He gives him another appreciative once-over, “Hotter than the Sun, Lenny.”

Len blinks at him, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I… We should go.”

Mick nods, noting absently that they really should go if they don’t want to be late.

Len starts for the door, stopping only when Lisa shoves a long, black wool coat at him. He puts it on and stomps out the apartment, Mick at his heels.

  * ●●●●



The place is packed. Mick’s already feeling like a sardine in a can- and they haven’t even entered the main room yet. He tugs at the collar of his dress shirt and loosens his tie; the pressure of it around his neck choking him.

Len, for his credit, doesn’t look frightened. On the outside.

He hands over his coat at the counter with a pleasant smile and spends the night indulging meaningless chatter with other guests. He’s mostly sticking close to Mick, opting for holding his hand or draping Mick’s arm around his shoulders and acting ridiculously cutesy. And way more disgustingly couple-y than they actually are (no matter what Lisa says).Len’s always a good actor, be it on a job or, well, any other time when there’s something he doesn’t want to show. But tonight, Mick sees him from a different angle. It’s still him, but somewhat moved in a way that’s throwing Mick off. It’s not an entirely bad experience.

He watches him talking to a couple, a glass of champagne in his hand, and smiling faintly at what the guy in a deep red cardigan is saying. There’s a guy, over at the bar, eyeing him strangely, greedily, and Mick slings an arm around his waist and glares in the direction of the bar until the guy cowers and scurries away.

“You two are such a wonderful couple,” red cardigan tells them, “how long have you been married?”

Mick chokes. “What?”

Red cardigan’s date smiles at them, his hair braided to one side. “I mean, it’s obvious you’ve been together for a long time. You love each other very much, no?”

“Uh, yeah. We sure do,” Len says, discomfort barely evident in his voice. Red cardigan and his date don’t even notice it.

Mick, though, does, no matter how caught up he actually is in what Len had said. Logically, he knows Len loves him; he wouldn’t put up with his bullshit for this long if he didn’t. They just… don’t say it. Mick thinks they maybe should- if only Len wouldn’t run at the first sign of feelings like he’s allergic to them.

“So, you’ve been married recently or…?”

“No,” Mick says- they’re not married at all, _they’re barely dating_ \- and then lies, “we’ve been married for years.”

Len pinches his palm subtly and Mick grits his teeth so he doesn’t swear.

“Yes. What my _dear husband_ here said. We’ve been happily married for a while now.” Len says sweetly and pats his chest.

Mick is so sleeping on the couch tonight.

“And now you’ll excuse me, I’ll go grab some more champagne.”

“Oh, I’ll go with you!” Red cardigan’s date says.

Apparently, finding another married gay couple where someone indulges in wearing skirts occasionally means they follow them around like shadows the whole night.

Mick was wrong. He won’t sleep on the couch- he’ll end up in a body bag.

  * ●●●●



Len blows out a breath as soon as they get into the car. Mick tries not to stare, but his eyes stray to the patch of light skin showing where the stockings stop at the skirt begins.

“I didn’t think rich people could get any more obnoxious,” Len tells him.

Mick doesn’t know if he’s aware of it, but one of his hands is tapping against his knee, fingers occasionally brushing over the material.

His eyes are closed and Mick takes in a smudge of eyeliner- kohl?- or whatever it is (Lisa told him once, but she also told him a bunch of other things and he can’t remember everything at once) in the corner of his eye.

“We leaving any time soon or what?” He asks.

Mick shakes his head and turns on the engine.

  * ●●●●



As soon as they enter their apartment, Len marches into the bathroom to scrub off the make-up. He’s muttering something along the lines of “Was this really necessary?” when he notices Mick watching him.

He arches his eyebrows at him, “Are you trying to look up my skirt, Mick? Shame on you.”

Oh, he’s joking. That’s a good sign.

“A little bit. I’ve been trying to get you to wear stockings for five years, let me have this.” Mick says, tugging off his tie. God, he hates suits.

Len gives him a strange, doubtful look.

“What?”

Len blinks, still looking at him like that. “You- this- you really like this? You’re not messing with me?”

It’s Mick’s turn to blink at him, “What? Why would I be messing with you?”

Len shrugs, “I don’t know. What’s the deal with the stockings anyway?”

“Everyone looks hot in stockings,” Mick says, “and you’re leggy, you can pull them off real good.”

“Oh,” Len responds.

He gets quiet again, so Mick adds quickly, “But, uh, if you don’t like it, then it’s-“

“No.”

“No? No, you don’t like it?”

Len shakes his head, comes to stand in front of him. Because Mick is sitting down and Len’s skirt is pretty short, it’s very distracting.

“No, as in I don’t mind it.”

“Really?” Mick didn’t think the night will go in this direction, but he’s not dead yet, so he’s fine with it.

“Yep,” Len confirms, popping the ‘p’. “And now that we’ve got that cleared up…” he trails off. And straddles Mick’s lap.

Okay. Mick really likes where this night is going.

“Oh?”

Len grins, looping his arms around Mick’s neck. “Well, I did get dressed up. Would be a shame if it went to waste, wouldn’t it?”

“Definitely,” Mick agrees. He settles his hands on Len’s thighs, notes the silky fabric and slides them up, underneath the skirt until he can feel Len’s hipbones under his thumbs and smooth, soft skin under his palms.

Len leans down to kiss him, slow at first, but gradually making it hotter, more hurried and Mick responds in kind. They part when they’re already almost out of breath, lips red and tingling.

Len chuckles, “Maybe I should wear stockings more often.”

“ _Definitely_ ,” Mick repeats and brings him in for another kiss.


End file.
